The Benettonian Approach

It’s the season to be merry and all that goodness so a jollified seasons greetings to all! May the [surprisingly] unconditional love of God pervade this commercialized Rudolf-ridden season and find its way to your hearts & hearths.

(I haven’t blogged in a bit, not because I have run out of things to say, *whispers “Tufiakwa” whilst simultaneously spitting on the ground and snapping fingers over head like an Igbo elder receiving bad news at the dibia’s shrine*. I have quite simply, been busy. Life happened. As ‘it’ will continue to happen (God willing) there’s no use apologising). To today’s news.

“The British National Party is made up of refugees, migrating from the reality of the real world”
- columnist from the Evening Standard, whose name I forget now.

So I have concluded that I’m definitely not reading The Evening Standard on the tube ever again. I’m sitting here with all sorts of looks running after each other on my rather expressive face. I’m confused, then fascinated, then tickled, then heavily ANNOYED and finally so incredulous that I have to physically restrain the fingers of my right hand from reaching out and poking the now dozing hombre on my right, shouting “Can you BUHHLEEEVVE the nerve of this damn fool?!?!”...whilst pointing viciously at the newspaper in my hand. The reason for this aggression is found littered all over the comment section of this paper:

Race.

Little thanks to the BNP, the general populace of England has, in the last months of 2009, either grown fiercely patriotic or excessively liberal. The normally apathetic of course remain unmoved, but we don’t care about The Don’t Cares.

That many people in 21st century London are rather suspicious of immigration laws, societal intergration and race is not new, strange (or interesting) information. However, most people have managed to hide under the banner of tolerance by putting up an accepting front of people from varied backgrounds and cultures. To a certain extent the BNP debate blew a little of the lid off that tin.

In London today, you would be forgiven for thinking we are all liberal minded individuals roaming round the littered city streets but one thing I learnt from the uproar surrounding Nick Griffin’s appearance on Question Time is that The Patriots *does air quotes* number far and exceedingly above the figure originally suspected. It’s just that in today’s world where Common and Lily Allen duet, you can really only afford to be racist or bigoted inside...DEEP inside. So more people than we would like to believe are distrustful and afraid of people who are unlike them. But they keep any suspicion, fear or even hatred deeply buried, disguised by a veneer of acceptance and normalcy. Just like a religious, married M.P with 3 kids, from Framlingham…whose dearest fantasy is to be a cross-dressing cage fighter. I mean, do you *Kanye shrug*…just don’t let anyone else know and we’ll all live happily ever after. (At least until your insatiable desire to rock frocks causes you to mistakenly wear red kitten heels to a Parliamentary meeting paired with your Brooks Brothers suit... or do something equally media-friendly.)

On the pages of the free newspapers, the comment sections in August and September were sprinkled with comments whose undertones said one of two things on the race/immigration debate. There was an equal divide between the Patriots on one hand and the Liberals on the other hand. The former group support of Griffin and what he represents. They have fallen for the BNP’s rhetoric of reverting the damage caused by ‘foreigners’ (by foreigners I assume they refer to 1st, 2nd and 3rd generation men, women and children some of whom had very little say in deciding to settle in this country…that is obviously overflowing with milk and honey *ahem*). The Liberals on the other hand, argue for freedom for freedom’s sake. With little or no support for the BNP’s policy, they staunchly advocate the freedom of every one with an opinion to spew forth unrestrained, no matter how asinine or insidious to a brittle electorate straining under the weight of an economic downturn and searching for anyone to dump the blame on. While I do support the U.S’s first amendment and believe the right to free speech is a hallmark of a democratic and progressive society in this 21st century, I believe that giving free reign to ignorant and uneducated rhetoric cleverly disguised as fact has caused serious problems in the world’s history. Please refer to Hitler’s hate-fueled propaganda for details. BUT, I will ruefully admit that the dissemination of information, no matter how useless, is the basis of a free society. After all, if we are still allowing the Kardashians drone on aimlessly on our box-screens, why shouldn’t Griffin be allowed to mix verbs and consonants all day long on the public airwaves?

In this case I am especially happy that Nick Griffin and the BNP have been given a chance to expose themselves simply because despite the heavy criticism meted out by vexed members of the public, the BNP confirms that the membership of the party grew after their exposure. For some this showed that insidious ideas must be monitored and not given exposure to prevent them spreading and contaminating the public. For me, this growth merely confirmed the fraud that is the general English public. While we are so quick to point to our solo white, Jewish, hispanic or Muslim friend that will finally confirm to the world our United Colours of Benetton-ian approach to diversity, increasing numbers in the BNP’s ranks surely indicate that we are not as far along in this tiring game of self-deceit as we thought we were.

For some people the revelation of the extent to which we have been fooling ourselves as a society chaffed their righteous consciences. How can there be so many hidden racists amongst us? (Because try as you might, to convince yourself that the BNP is merely aggressive not racist is as foolish as calling an Ikwerre man an Igbo man to his face with full knowledge of the Nigerian civil war behind you and an understanding of the relationship between an Ikwerre man and his cutlass. This would be a foolish mistake you may only make once in your soon-to-be-severed lifetime).

Some people were upset and disappointed by the swelling ranks of the BNP but I wasn’t upset, just saddened but thankful that the truth was slowly coming to light. Rather than a hidden hatred of all things foreign, it is much better that intolerance be practiced in the open, if it at all. If there were a sign to let everyone know where one’s allegiance belonged on sight, that would make things easier. Some people would not bother to apply for certain jobs were class is a requirement, for instance. Others still would not bother going into establishments were skin pigmentation were graded…or even considered at all. And it would be convenient to know who to avoid at networking events. Amongst others.

The world would be much easier if we abandoned this Great Pretense and agreed that Super Barack or not, as a society we are in some ways mentally confined to the civil rights age as we wander about God’s grey earth; each race deathly afraid and eternally suspicious of the other. When the self-deceit stops, maybe the progress and real quest for unity will start. Until then let those of us that understand that the things that separate us are far smaller than those that unite us start the work, gaining one white, Jewish, hispanic or Muslim friend at a time.

(How's this for a Christmas message though!...Baby Jesus, Baubles & BNP..???.. MERRY CHRISTMAS!)

'Booty Dew' Killed Hip Hop. Please arrest the singers & alert the authorities.

On one of my food breaks, I went to my room to eat and turned the TV on to BET....dont judge me, after sitting in a car with my Anglo-Saxon friends and listening to a serious discussion about Moby (yes, the bald singer), which did not ONCE involve any of the following words; “WHO?!?".."WHY??"..."HUH, MOBY??!?! SERIOUSLY HOW?!?!"...but rather included detailed descriptions of Moby concerts and songs (yes, Moby fans are real live humans just like you and I) and a lavish amount of praise heaped on the clean-shaven head of said songbird, my TV has been on BET watch since that day, as I struggle to reclaim my Negrocity. LOL!!!  

So anyways, it was at such a time that I became acquainted with a video tentatively titled ‘Booty Dew’. You see, I suspect that this is one thing impeding the (African-) American dream ; specifically this brand of foolishness. Yes, I am taking it there and indeed blaming Hip Hop…not as the sole cause of some of the foolishness I've witnessed in America’s black community, which I am quite pleased to say I’m not a part of seeing as I am African.....(and I'm an active member of the potentially more foolery-exhibiting Negrodom known as the African community...a fact that is really neither here nor there)....but as a substantial contributor to the irresponsibility I witness daily.We press on.

My problem with Hip Hop is manifest. Not least because it manages to continuously spew forth homo-sapiens whose faces assure me that the God I serve certainly has a sense of humour. Men who sometimes look like they have fully evolved, but whose lyrics evidence otherwise. I don’t know how far across the Atlantic some of these ‘Rap’ songs spread especially the kawwwntrayyy…...ahem, country style rap but I hope and at the same time fear that many people may have borne witness to one of such videos. This video is entitled ‘Halle Berry....She Fine’ (or Halllayyy Bayyyrayyy She Fooooiiinnnee, according to the grown folk chanting along to this track in the video).

The fact that there are several ladies of the ‘thicker than a snicker’ variety in this video (sistahs who I steadfastly remain jealous of by the way *eyes her tiny bum sadly*), or that there is a ghetto fabulous version of Yung Halle in this video or that yet another cringe-inducing, breakfast-indigesting, frankly-annoying ‘dance’ has arrived doesn’t fascinate me as much as the *huge sigh as she types the next words* ‘singer and songwriter’ Hurricane Chris. The entire time I watched this video, I was struck by one thing and one thing alone……WHY, does this young man’s face start from the place normally reserved for lips in other peoples faces? I mean, this man's entire face is a forehead. Why? And I kept asking myself why over and over again. And because I am who I am, I somehow managed to find reasonable justifications to solve the mystery of his hidden hairline(Yes, you may call me Miss Drew). I reasoned, his hairline lies closer to the back of his neck than his eyebrows probably because of the tight braids...or a style in the durrty souf might be to shave off most of the front hair, revealing a gleaming brow?...Frankly I was worried.

I was in the middle of such volatile thoughts thus was unable to react fast enough to the announcement of the number 7 video on BET's 106 & Park countdown; “Booty Dew’. And that’s how dear friends I was found in front of a TV watching a video & listening to a song I define as ‘Niggatry in its rawest and most undiluted form.’

Now my problem wasn’t the fact that there were sprinkled amongst the dancing negroes in this video, several white frat boys singing along and dancing to this video, I was far more surprised by the reaction of the studio audience when the camera returned to the 106 & Park studio. All the 14-year-olds-pretending-to-be-18 were singing along loudly with their too bright sneakers and ponytails stacked high at the wrong side of their craniums while the hosts Souljaboy’d along to the song like it was all normal. Attendre, WAIT....a song is called BOOTY.DEW and not even one person has a WTH face?!? C’mon, give me a disgusted face…..hell, a slightly confused face at least?!! Nope, everyone was just basking in the ignorance as the ‘singer’ crooned about the joys of booty dew.

My relationship with Hip Hop is strange. While I don’t think it is the living spring from which all hoodrat behaviour flows, I think it has a dangerous and lasting effect on the community. I mean these little kids, had just watched someone tell them about booty dew,whatever the hell that means, and were gearing to listen to the #6 song ‘Birthday Sex’……seriously, then we wonder where all the women on the Maury show come from?!?!

The Hip Hop proponents' argument for Hip Hop is that it should be recognised and preserved because it is a respectable art form that allows rappers tell their story, its a documentation of the black struggle, the voice of the people, etc. Maybe.

Before I moved to America I always thought a lot of Hip Hop stories in songs were exaggerations but my foray into Oakland has proven otherwise; ‘babymommadrama’ is the norm, as are dead beat dads and cracked out mums, pimp style negroes, clear heeled stripper shoes in the daytime, durags & timbs, perpetual smell of weed on almost EVERYONE, cornrowed negroes at the corners looking to ‘holla right quick’, conversate & copulate with any free-breathing or asthmatic female, little 14 year old girls jumping rope with their babies on one hand.….ok I havent seen that one yet but the number of babies with babies is a little disquietning. These rappers are actually singing about real life situations. So yes, it is the voice of their struggle.

HOWEVER, where do we put the Hallay Barrays?!? Or T-Pain and his ridiculous questions("Have you ever been in the VIP room of your favourite strip club?"...Er, no sir! How many people who listen to your music can afford the scenarios you describe and can answer affirmatively to that question pray tell? Gremlin please! Tell me something I can relate to!!), is he still a part of the struggle? Or pure entertainment? How entertaining is it that there are whole parts of the world where black people are still strange to see or that there still exists so many narrow minds in the black-president led America for whom blacks will never be regarded as equal. How entertaining is it to confirm such unhealthy stereotypes?

True, we are not responsible for the ignorant minded idiots who really don’t understand that all humans were created equal,but at the same time I really have to wonder what goes through the mind of a person in say Montenegro, who hasn’t seen many negroes in real life but has seen enough of them on MTV behaving in a way we have come to expect of niggers…NOT black people...(Youtube Chris Rock on Niggers), when he sees a *gasp* Real Live Negro??

I know, I know, this is taking things too far but I cant help but wonder…..especially after reading that Jay-Z said Hip Hop has done more than any ambassador or politician to unite the races. *shrugs* Maybe. But it’s the kind of unity deserving of a side eye me thinks. I’m not sure if Shaniqua is ready for any Molly to be living vicariously through her, that’s what Hip Hop does. Or Deshawn to have John Smith throwing the ‘N’ bomb around then innocently (and legitimately) inquiring why he cant use it if Tyrone & ‘em can? Thats what Hip Hop does. Hell, Hip Hop is the reason why I write irrevently on this blog, laughing at words and a lifestyle that is far removed from mine but is very real to someone and is all they know. It’s a shame really, but that’s Hip Hop.

Truth is, Hip Hop tells the world a story but too many times its telling an incomplete one. Someone once told me that the camera lens has only one eye, so it can't see properly. So there are no panoramic tales on our TV's;just the same story with the same script and characters that lead the listeners and viewers to think that there is only one type of African American man or that the black woman comes in one shape and brain size. They dont tell us that for every Delishis, Angel Lola Luv and Buffy the Body there is a Michelle Obama or a Valerie Jarrett or a young girl in college, studying and staying away from general hoodrat activity and sorority sister style hoe-tivity....which incidentally most often involve the Mollys & the Beckys(yes, mudfights in the backyards of the frat houses at Berkeley NEVER involve sistahs....and I know this for sure because Black Woman's Hair + Water= Someone Looking For A Fight, BUT Black Woman's Hair + DIRTY water + Sand or MUD???= Instant Death For The Bastard Son Of A Diseased Goat Who Orchestrated The 'Fun'....see I'm getting mad just thinking about it.)

Speaking about the state of Hip Hop, does Drake look like a black vampire to anyone else? So NO ONE in the world besides me thinks this gentleman looks like he rubs white powder on his face daily????? Look deep within yourself and answer truthfully ....

:-(

My laptop is looking for my trouble.... with a torch light.... Riddle me this Batman*, why is my laptop refusing to come on??!

I called H.P and some Indians at the other end(??!??!!)told me there's nothing they can do for me because I'm past the 1year warranty mark *blank stare*....I almost released my inner Shaniqua....more on that later, I'm too sad to even crack any jokes.

...Seriously the devil is a bloody liar(yes, I took it there), at this crucial point in time, should my laptop really be dying??!*insert saddest faced emoticon available*

Dear God,I'm asking you to please make tomorrow a better day.Amen.Goonight!
P.s;Don't sleep oh!

*crunktastical.net

I heard.....

"....many things that happen in Nigeria are so unbelievable that they could very easily be misconstrued as fiction. Recently, I heard about a house that caught fire in Aba. Because the Fire Service arrived after the house had been completely razed by the fire, an angry mob made their way to the fire station and burnt the fire station down! That is the sort of thing that happens only on the pages of novels or in soap operas, but in Nigeria, those sorts of incidents happen every day."-(Adaobi Nwabauni interview)
-I wasnt sure if I should be proud at the community spirit or mad at the shortsightedness*sigh*

But You Know Its Uncalled For.....

I tried not to talk about Oakland again. I tried. I really did….but the place and its inhabitants just continue to provide fodder for an active imagination! Its ridick! It’s like they send out a secret memo that I’m coming and EVERYONE should be on their most worrisome behaviour for my benefit. I mean, HOW else can you justify the foolery!??! It can’t possibly happen on the daily, no economy could survive with this foolishness….(hmmm, actuaaaaallllyyyy the American economy isn’t surviving…..I think I just might have found the answer to the recession. Clever Barbie. *beams*).

I understand that there are wondrous parts of the city of Oakland but lawdy lawwwwd, there are some nefariously ghettoised homes and homebodies in this place! I mean what business does a grown man have sitting without fear or favour on the train, staring around with nary a care in the world….and wearing butterscotch coloured Timberland boots with the Louis Vuitton logo printed in every free space on those size 42s?!!...Worse, this stylistically challenged fellow dared to authenticate this foolishness with a gold buckle around the calf of the ‘designer’ shoes proudly emblazoned with the print “Louis Vuitton, est 1852”. Negro Please! Aint nobody believing those shoes came from The Malletier himself when on the other side there is a little palmtree masquerading as the Timberland logo. *Shakes head* You need more people my friend because we (that is, THE ENTIRE WORLD!!!)aren’t buying what you’re selling, NEXT!

So today, I was on the train to my salon for a touch up(in the name of studying I have morphed into a mini Chantal Biya) when I encountered Mr Timb Vuitton, thinking this was the last straw, I got off the train at my stop and ventured, out into the street. Bad. Move. There she was, standing before me…. a paragon of nastiness. I am sorry but what are some people thinking when they step out of their houses?? "HMMMM, what can I wear today that will make people offended…??...theres that orange House of Dereon velour suit….with my blingy Apple Bottom denim face cap…..and that matching Baby Phat denim jacket with rhinestones?!?HA! I WILL KILL THEM TODAY!!!!”…This is the type of discussion I can only assume most of Oakland’s population have with the kneegrow in the mirror before hitting the streets to, appropriately, kill us.*Sigh*

So back to this paragon of nastiness, I’m waiting at the traffic lights, and this lady stands next to me in a tight bright yellow vest (bear in mind that this is a well endowed Team Chunk representative I speak of), tiny denim mini skirt (with rhinestones blinding passing drivers, Oh Kimora Lee when will you stop creating stupidly hazardous styles?! When?), yellow cycling shorts…*meditate on that, cycling shorts…with a lace trim, in yellow*, carrying a matching yellow bag and….no, im not finished, wearing yellow slippers with her long witchlike toenails, waaay longer than said slippers, actually grazing the granite as she walked!! I was weak. Oh and I forgot the multi-coloured face cap stylishly tilted to cover one eye! So you know, even if all the matching did not tell you, that this Badmamajama definitely got dressed in a conscious state, in the presence of a mirror and with every intention to come out looking like she did. At this moment I bow my head and ask…nay, BEG for direction and a cease to this foolishness. I mean it isn’t even 9.30am yet and buffoonery is already the order of the day!?!?!!No, please.

Anyways, I weakly cross the street and get to the salon only to find my hairdressers watch is set to Coloured Peoples Time today, I call her and she says she is ‘round the corner.’ Right. I sit there waiting in the shop with the only other occupant being the barber. Now, this salon is EXACTLY like the one in The Barber shop movie, all the workers have their personal chairs and just pay rent to Tha Boss…or Boss Lady in this case, a feisty Jamaican with red hair. So I sit quietly as the barber proceeds to talk to himself, loudly and argumentatively, while I’m sitting there wondering if I should fade before he decides to do something crazy.Before I can decide, these two men come into the salon and the three of them begin the most entertaining conversation I have heard in ages! One of them is explaining a recent shooting he survived and the others are dropping comments about their own 50cent style escapes from bullets (exaggerated numbers et al). In fact, Crazy Barber insists, his brother got shot in front of Ronnie’s liquor store and “That Niggah woulda been dead but he too fat to die! Shiiiiiiiiit, bullet got lost somewhere in the fat around his arteries”. OK, L.O.L…please which doctor told you that one?!

These men discussed everything under the sun from Lil Wayne “….dawg, he been doing hoe shit since he wuh 14!” to Kobe “….maaaaaaaaaaannnn he a hoe!” to the local…ahem, ‘Sperminator’ with his 6 babymommas and their epic plan to bring him to justice by arriving at his work place to collect his cheque. And his plan to elude them which turned out to be an epic fail, prompting the following words from Crazy Barber “ ….tell you this, hell hath NO fury like a black woman suspecting her kid’fatha be a trifling niggah, mm mm mm that niggah be playing like Lebron thinking he can fool 6 b*tchs at one time! And they ugly too. You know ugly women angry all tha time!” This met with much agreement and mutterings of “Oh I know!” and “...truth son, they some frog-faced sistahs! ”

All while I sat there trying to control my laughter and be invisible. In white jeans (the jury’s still out on them by the way. I felt so conspicuous wearing them, I’ve hated coloured trousers since the Feb 14th that I, not realizing the date, ventured out in red jeans looking like Cupids chokehold herself …don’t judge me, 2004 was one fashion faux pas after another).

FINALLY my hairdresser comes in. A really beautiful young woman (with the required tri-syllabic ghetto name though) and tells me that ‘…what had happened was…’ she had locked her keys in her car when she went to drop her kids at kindergarten. Her morning consisted of getting all the kids at the playground to "...help Deshawn and Nay Nay’s mummy look for her keys". That is, until she realized she’d locked them in the car. Apparently, one of the kids had to climb in through the sun roof to open the door for her.

Hard to believe but it seems someone’s morning was more ‘interesting’ than mine!